Atzar
07-23-10, 02:37 AM
((This is a solo. As usual, I’d like to put out a request to all who read this, in part or in whole, as I write it: when you’re done reading, I’d greatly appreciate if you’d hit me up – either through PM or AIM, my handle is ‘Ark Ether’ – and tell me what you think. Constant feedback really helps me as I write threads. Thanks in advance.))
Nature herself raged around the city of Menka. Jagged lances of lightning stabbed downward from the sky, blowing holes in the sodden ground that instantly filled with torrents of rain. Blazing flames crackled and popped as they arced overhead, detonating with noisy bursts on rock or sizzling out of existence in puddles. Razor-edged shards of ice flew this way and that, shattering into crystalline dust whenever they struck the unyielding stone wall. And through it all, Atzar Kellon was bored.
He stood high on the sturdy outer wall of his city, gazing down on the would-be invaders far below as they threw everything they had at the defenders high above. A fireball flickered into existence and flashed upward at the mage. With a dull grunt, the young phenom stretched one hand out toward the incoming missile. The flame wheeled around in midair, travelling back the way it had come before its creator erased it with a wave. Without changing expression, the youth’s heavy-lidded eyes slid to the next threat. Atzar simply watched, not making a move as the lethal shard of ice flew ever closer. Fifty feet… forty… thirty…
“Atzar!”
The fragment exploded, and frigid powder settled slowly back to the earth. The mage turned to see Barlom bearing down on him with a scowl on his round, rain-soaked face. The young man groaned; he knew what came next.
“I wasn’t in any danger,” the mage protested. “I would have blocked-”
“This isn’t a game, boy!” The burly wizard’s tone was scathing.
“Barlom, I’m not going to get hurt.”
A peal of thunder boomed overhead, mirroring Barlom’s irate reaction. “Oh, you’re invincible now? You’ll have to share your secret with me some time. I’m thirty years more experienced than you, but I’m still quite mortal. Tell me, how have you learned all of magic’s intricacies when your balls haven’t even dropped yet?”
Atzar opened his mouth to deny that particular statement when a small stone hurtled right between them, falling with a crash into the city below.
“Enough.” The big man held up a hand to cut off any further reply. “We can discuss this later.” With one last poisonous glare, Barlom turned his shoulder to the young mage, returning his attention to the magical barrage beneath them. Another groan crawled up from Atzar’s throat as he did the same. With one sleeve he wiped with no real effect at the rain that ran down his face before sullenly reapplying himself to the tedious task of swiping fireballs from the stormy sky.
Nature herself raged around the city of Menka. Jagged lances of lightning stabbed downward from the sky, blowing holes in the sodden ground that instantly filled with torrents of rain. Blazing flames crackled and popped as they arced overhead, detonating with noisy bursts on rock or sizzling out of existence in puddles. Razor-edged shards of ice flew this way and that, shattering into crystalline dust whenever they struck the unyielding stone wall. And through it all, Atzar Kellon was bored.
He stood high on the sturdy outer wall of his city, gazing down on the would-be invaders far below as they threw everything they had at the defenders high above. A fireball flickered into existence and flashed upward at the mage. With a dull grunt, the young phenom stretched one hand out toward the incoming missile. The flame wheeled around in midair, travelling back the way it had come before its creator erased it with a wave. Without changing expression, the youth’s heavy-lidded eyes slid to the next threat. Atzar simply watched, not making a move as the lethal shard of ice flew ever closer. Fifty feet… forty… thirty…
“Atzar!”
The fragment exploded, and frigid powder settled slowly back to the earth. The mage turned to see Barlom bearing down on him with a scowl on his round, rain-soaked face. The young man groaned; he knew what came next.
“I wasn’t in any danger,” the mage protested. “I would have blocked-”
“This isn’t a game, boy!” The burly wizard’s tone was scathing.
“Barlom, I’m not going to get hurt.”
A peal of thunder boomed overhead, mirroring Barlom’s irate reaction. “Oh, you’re invincible now? You’ll have to share your secret with me some time. I’m thirty years more experienced than you, but I’m still quite mortal. Tell me, how have you learned all of magic’s intricacies when your balls haven’t even dropped yet?”
Atzar opened his mouth to deny that particular statement when a small stone hurtled right between them, falling with a crash into the city below.
“Enough.” The big man held up a hand to cut off any further reply. “We can discuss this later.” With one last poisonous glare, Barlom turned his shoulder to the young mage, returning his attention to the magical barrage beneath them. Another groan crawled up from Atzar’s throat as he did the same. With one sleeve he wiped with no real effect at the rain that ran down his face before sullenly reapplying himself to the tedious task of swiping fireballs from the stormy sky.